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From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: Live and Let Q (TNG P/Q NC-17 but no BDSM) 1/3
Date: 23 Aug 1997 19:22:35 GMT
Lines: 327
Message-ID: <19970823192201.PAA29787@ladder02.news.aol.com>
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X-Admin: news@aol.com
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Hi. This is an NC-17 P/Q story, a sequel to "From Q, With Love,"
decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely stories, no question).
No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men (kinda) or lots of
love-talk should read any further.
Feedback is appreciated at Varoneeka@aol.com
Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistable toys. I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!
*Live and Let Q*
Picard tried to remember why he had fought this for so long. He
called up images of the Borg and Farpoint Station and Riker acting like a
jerk while he got used to being a god, but they seemed curously pale and
weak next to the feel of his lover beside him and his love inside him.
Picard smiled to himself at the romantic folly of his thoughts.
It really was no wonder he'd kept himself from this feeling, if he were
going to be this ridiculous about it.
Damnit, he thought suddenly. Never in his life had he done
something so foolish as this, and never in his life had he cared so little
about the consequences of his foolishness.
Consequences...he frowned.
Though his eyes were closed and his face pressed into Picard's
neck, Q sensed that frown and once again had to expend energy not to read
the cpatain's mind. This was not helped by the fact that Q himself was
frowning. Making love to Picard had been wonderful, a dream of
sensations, but being made love to by Picard...that had disturbed him.
Soon after Picard had entered him Q had stopped thinking, had been unable
to think, and while that wasn't something which had never happened to him
before, the last time had been well over a million years ago. He didn't
quite know yet whether being completely overwhelmed by sensation were due
to his being in human form for so long so often, his complete lack of
experience with that particular sexual position, or simply because the
idea of Picard wanting him that way, so actively seeking after Q and
working to give him pleasure, responding to his need to make it harder and
faster...
Oh, dear. Picard must be feeling that against his leg.
The man in Q's arms chuckled, his chest rocking the entity gently.
"Again, Q?"
When they were together, had Picard ever stopped thinking? Q
suddenly wanted to know. Had he kept some sense of himself during all
this? Was Q the only one who'd gone so far?
At the abrupt rise of Q's head, Picard opened his eyes to meet a
fierce expression he didn't understand. That dark gaze dropped to rake
over Picard's chest as Q's body withdrew, raising up so that he could
travel over the whole of the man's form, taking in every inch of him
before returning to those intelligent, currently puzzled eyes. Q could,
of course, just ask Picard what it had been like for him, but there were
other ways of getting the information Q wanted.
And Picard found himself shivering in anticipation at the slow,
evil curl of Q's lips.
"Q," he said, privately pleased with the steady line of his voice.
"My ship is ooooh!"
The touch of Q's hand across Picard's chest was neither hot nor
cold, rough nor gentle. It seemed somehow simply made of arousal, of need
and desire, pouring the craving for contact, for joining, into his body.
The sensation and need grew with the lightest of strokes, and it took
everything Picard had to speak while that caress went back and forth,
almost but not quite reaching either nipple.
"I got...the impression...you were...oh Dieu...limiting
your...yourself to...human reactions...oh!"
"I am, but that's no reason why you should be."
And then Q bent his head to his lover's left nipple and licked it
gently. The shocking stab of longing went right to Picard's cock, which
was now painfully hard.
"Please, Q," Picard whispered.
"Oh, no, Mon Capitaine," Q replied softly as the sensation began
to create a vast and vastly empty hunger. "Not yet. This is just to get
your attention."
Picard's wide eyes widened.
Still smiling, Q moved down to Picard's feet again and gently took
one in his hands. Rather than giving it another massage, however, he
brushed the instep with his fingertips. The sensations this time were
strictly tactile, no powers involved, but Picard's nervous system had
become so charged that the sensation of light grazing was almost
unbearable. Picard gasped and tore his foot from Q's hold.
"Tsk tsk," Q said calmly, and looked down at him, taking in the
sweat and the trembling and the tight erection. Picard wasn't resisting
him, he saw. The move had been involuntary. Broadening his smile a bit,
he waited. Picard's eyes glittered at him.
"I can leave you like this," Q said, happily aware that whatever
need Picard felt inside had just been increased by the barest sharing of
Q's own desire in that charged touch to his chest and penis. Let the
stuffy captain deal with some of the lust and longing Q had felt for the
past few years! "The universe is my playground. I could eat lunch with
the Emporer of Al*jeetk. He's quite the gormet and has four stomachs. Or
I could travel through the plasma clouds of Rintra Arg'ente. They're
sentient, of course, and quite taken with their little rituals. It would
take me three decades to get through the clouds without causing horrible
offense." Q leaned over the captain, close but not quite touching, and
whispered: "Would you like that, Picard? Would you like me to leave you
like this for thirty years? I could...leave you...just...like...this..."
"Please," Picard whimpered, unable to keep from moving his hips
up, trying to make contact. "Please, Q."
Q stared at him, and Picard worked his mouth, trying to stumble
across whatever signal Q wanted.
"I love you," Picard moaned. "I love you, Q." Something was
definitely changing in Q's face. "I love you and I want you and I -- Mon
Dieu!"
Q had bent his head to the wet glans right below him and was
gently kissing, moving his lips softly, slowly all around the head.
Ignoring the jerks of Picard's hips and his gently sobbing moans, Q
extended his tongue and licked slowly up and then down that sensitive
underside. Picard's hands grabbed wildly at his head, but Q easily caught
him at the wrists and pushed his spasmodically clenching and unclenching
fists to his side. Picard was so out of it, Q noted with joy, that he was
easily able to pin him down with the simple application of lazy weight.
Returning to his more interesting task, Q licked the underside
again, and drank in the sound of Picard's steady moaning.
Picard tried to free himself from Q's restraint. More than
anything in the world, in his life, he wanted Q to take him inside -- what
part of "inside" really didn't matter to him at all. He'd be overjoyed at
even the slightest of steady touches, anything that would allow him some
release. He felt like he was about to come for a month. Nothing existed
for him anymore but lying here -- wherever here was -- and wanting more
contact from Q. The strain was intolerable, and he had no experience with
such overwhelming desire, nothing to help him endure this wonderful but
unbearable torture.
"Help me, Q," he pleaded.
The odd request drew a slight frown Picard couldn't see, as Q had
moved on to licking delicately at Picard's scrotum. "Help you?" he
echoed, the sounds accompanied by the feather-touch of his breath, and
Picard jerked again.
"I can't take...I can't...I don't know how..."
Q raised his head to look at the captain and finally appreciated
his distress.
"Don't you remember what you did when I was inside you?"
Picard made an inarticulate noise of longing, then simply shook
his head.
Oh, this was definitely going all right, Q thought. "Relax," he
ordered Picard gently. "Relax. Nothing you do is going to change what is
going to happen. You can't rush me or slow me down. Just relax and don't
fight me."
And instantly Picard let everything go, releasing command and
control and ownership of his body to the creature who was making
everything happen for him, and he was rushed into a whirl of sensations
that went on and in and out and everywhere.
And then the universe steadied, and instead of general sensations,
everything became specific. He was no longer certain he had feet, but he
could feel every bit of moisture on his body, every brush of the air
against his skin, all the tension in his muscles, the hot rush of his
blood through his veins, the wild beating of his mechanical heart. How
had he never noticed the feel of that beating before? There was something
solid and reassuring about it, some guarantee that it would continue to do
its work no matter how crazed with desire he became. He couldn't think
through all that reassurance, of course, and figure out its cause. He
only knew he felt somehow comforted by his own body, and this was just
another sensation to add to his arousal.
Arousal...Q had laved his cock and scrotum completely now, and the
warm/cool sensation of tongue and drying moisture had reached the point
where it could no longer be anything but the center of his consciousness.
There was the slightest of resistance before his breath came out
in words, a steady stream of pleas he knew was not going to stop until Q
gave him what he needed.
"Please, please, more please, now please, please, anything,
please, please, please..."
And the noise began to undo Q. He'd been in such control until
that steady pleading had started, but now the demands of his own body were
making his hands shake, his cock weep, and his thoughts stray entirely
from the further teasing he'd planned.
Picard's beautiful body was moving in a sort of wave now that
rhythmically raised his hips from the bed. His legs had spread out and
his eyes were open and unseeing. Every line of him screamed need and
every part of Q's body was responding to it.
"Do you want me inside you, Jean-Luc?" Q groaned.
Picard moaned back through his continued pleading and spread his
legs even farther. Q thought a soft, thick pillow under Picard's hips and
slick lubrication in all the right places before sliding his hands under
the human's ass and manuevering his swollen penis right outside Picard's
opening.
"Please please please please," Picard continued, and Q was too
involved in listening and feeling and wanting to notice that tears were
running down his own cheeks.
Entering Picard was different this time, easier and hotter. The
man was so unresisting that his muscles had fully relaxed, but his urgency
seemed to draw Q inside. At the same time that he entered, Q placed his
the warmth of his lubricated hand around Picard's erection and stroked
gently.
"Oh, yes!" Picard screamed, though it was breathless and quiet.
He really couldn't remember anymore how to make his lungs work. "Yes yes
yes yes please yes..."
Buried inside Picard, Q fought down the urge just to come and have
done with it. He'd never been so exhausted. But how could he keep from
wanting more of this? He was inside Picard and Picard was indeed thinking
of nothing but him...if he could be said to be thinking at all. He forced
his eyes open so that he could see the man's disorganized writhing, watch
his face contort as his head ground itself backwards into the bed, follow
the trembling lips as they forced out further pleas and now, as Q slowly
began to thrust, little whimpers of delight. Though he hadn't thought it
possible, Picard relaxed even further, let go of himself even more, and
now there were no more words from the man's mouth, only near-musical
sounds of ecstacy.
And Q found himself talking instead. "You're so beautiful, so
beautiful. I love you. I could spend eternity touching you and loving
you and watching you come." He wondered if he would ever take Picard from
behind again. How could he deny himself the pleasure of looking into that
adored face as it reflected the joy Q gave him? He sped up his thrusts,
aiming for the perfect contact with his prostate, and watched each motion
echoed in Picard's closed eyes, shaking lips, mobile brow. He sped up a
bit more and the captain's mouth opened wide with a wail.
Picard's hands had been free for some time, and without needing to
think about it he brought them up around Q's shoulders, too weak to clasp
but strong enough to hold on while he felt the beginnings of the orgasm
finally, finally, finally making its way through his body. He was somehow
beyond pleasure now, though nothing had become painful. He felt
transcendent, luminescent, freed of everything but the slow and complete
fulfillment of his desire, and he welcomed the tidal wave of it over him.
Let him drown, let him burst into oblivion and welcome to it. As long as
Q was there with him.
Inside him still...
Whatever remained of Q's control completely disappeared when
Picard's cock began to spurt in his hand. He thrust wildly into the man
beneath him three more times, then came, howling breathlessly and choking
on his continuing tears. And he welcomed the unconsciousness that took
them both through the final stages of release and luxury and pure joy.
Relatively speaking, it was hours before Picard awoke. It was
difficult to tell at first that he was awake. He was aware, certainly,
but few of the sensations he associated with consciousness were there to
welcome him back into the world. There was no sense of having someplace
to go or something to do. He was not hungry nor cold nor warm. He felt
peaceful and utterly content.
And then he moved.
"Uhhg," the grunt came out of a sore throat. Everything about him
ached.
A murmur of some sort came from his side, and Picard opened his
eyes -- damnit, even his eyelids were sore -- and saw Q lying beside him,
his eyes shut, his naked chest rising and falling in even breaths.
The memory of everything they had done poured across Picard like a
symphony, and he lay there for several long minutes, keeping still and
quiet, as he replayed the joy and passion in his mind.
Had he always wanted this? Was this what had made him so angry
with Q? When could it have started? He'd held Q in the greatest contempt
at Farpoint, and seen him as nothing more than a conman when he'd offered
Riker the powers of Q.
And yet, had Q really lied? He'd told Riker the Q were interested
in humanity, that they wanted to learn more about them, and in his own
strange fashion Q had proven that true. Giving Riker those powers has
certainly been nothing more than a corruptive bribe, but what had been the
real motivation behind it from the Q's perspective? It had been, he was
certain, an order from the Continuum. How had Q felt about the whole
thing?
The hell with it, Picard thought. He'd worry about it later. Now
he was more concerned with what had motivated what had happened today, on
this bed. Was Q really in love with him? He found himself intensely
flattered and a little terrified of the whole idea. What was Q planning
with him, anyway? Was he supposed to stay in this room for the rest of
his life as Q's little sex toy after all?
No, not if Q really cared about him. Q would want him to be
happy, just like -- Picard almost strangled at the realization -- just
like he wanted Q to be happy.
*Oh, Jean-Luc,* he thought ruefully. *Are you going to try to
keep a semi-omnipotent immortal happy? You and what army?*
His grogginess was abating somewhat, and his sight sharped. He
could make out bruises now along Q's shoulders, scratch marks along his
chest and flanks. Had he done that? Which time?
He could still feel the reverberations of that heedless longing
and unimaginable fullfilment in their last coupling. Q's actions bothered
him, though. Why had he seemed so...determined? What was he trying to
prove? That Picard wanted him? Picard should have thought fucking Q in
the first place would prove that. He had a host of homosexual (and every
other kind of sexual) friends, but never in his life had he personally
felt the urge, even the barest curiosity for another man's sex. But he'd
done it willingly, even desperately...and he'd do it again if Q would let
him. And again and again...as soon as he got some strength back.
Why was Q sleeping? Q had said he didn't care for the experience
before, when the Q made him mortal. However much Q was purposefully
limiting himself to human experience right now, Picard doubted that the
sleep was involuntary.
Q's eyelids fluttered, and, though it took all of his current
strength, Picard reached across the two feet of white comforter which
separated them and lightly kissed Q's lips. When he rolled back on the
bed, the dark eyes were looking at him.
"Morning, darling," Picard murmured.
Q smiled, but then frowned, while neither of them moved much else
at all.
"Did I hurt you?" Q asked.
That was becoming Q's refrain, Picard thought with disapproval.
What did Q think he was made out of? glass?
Then the enormous arrogance of that thought struck Picard: his
lover was pratically a god -- right off Olympus! Q was only concerned
because Picard was made of flesh and blood.
"Never," Picard said anyway, and watched Q's face relax.
"You're sore, though, I'll bet," Q said with satisfaction.
"Aching."
"I could just snap us back some energy, but I think...yes." Q
made a motion with his hand that was almost a snap, nodded, and then sat
up slowly. Wrapping his hands carefully around his mortal lover, he drew
Picard up with him and together they slowly left the bed. Picard saw that
the room now boasted a sunken hot tub and began to chuckle.
"I love to listen to you laugh, Jean-Luc," Q said dreamily as they
lowered themselves into the perfect, almost-too-hot water to sit on
opposites sides upon the submerged shelf. "I'm going to get you to do it
more often."
"Hm," came Picard's response as he felt the water taking away the
soreness and the fatigue in a slow and blissful ebb.
After several minutes, he opened his eyes to find Q watching him,
a tender smile on his face.
"What did you mean about time?" Picard asked. "Have you taken us
out of time?"
Q looked surprised, then nodded a little shyly. "Riker has some
report for you...do you mind?"
"Considering that I've been in no shape to attend to my duties, I
don't see how I could."
"It really makes no difference how long...you can be back whenever
you like."
Picard nodded, "That's fine," and was surprised to see Q relax.
He chuckled again. "This is going to take some getting used to."
"Which part?"
"All of it, actually. But I was thinking about your being
concerned for me, for my discomfort with your abilities."
Q looked rueful and inched a little lower in the water. "I've
always been concerned about that, Jean-Luc."
They stared at each other a few minutes as Q tried to balance his
energy level. He didn't like being so tired, but at the first sign of
lessening fatigue his body had begun to respond to being this close to a
naked Picard. Never mind that the churning water hid that luscious body
from his sight. He knew it was there. He knew now, he finally knew that
he could go ahead and touch that body, draw his fingers over that
sensitive skin, kiss that often-troubled brow, run his tounge inside those
ears, push his cock into that ass, that perfect and tight...
"What are you thinking about, Q?"
Q shrugged. "Fucking you."
END PART THREE
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From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: Live and Let Q (TNG P/Q NC-17 but no BDSM) 2/3
Date: 23 Aug 1997 19:23:52 GMT
Lines: 232
Message-ID: <19970823192300.PAA22336@ladder01.news.aol.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com
X-Admin: news@aol.com
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Hi. This is an NC-17 P/Q story, a sequel to "From Q, With Love,"
decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely stories, no question).
No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men (kinda) or lots of
love-talk should read any further.
Feedback is appreciated at Varoneeka@aol.com
Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistable toys. I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!
"Really, Q! I'm still getting over...what we did before."
Q shrugged a bit more impishly. "Can't help it, Jean-Luc. I've
wanted you for so long..."
"Well, I've wanted you too, but I'm still tired."
"Then let me do all the work, sweatheart." The lips curled
wickedly.
"Q! Please..." Picard's eyes looked desperate. "Can't we at
least eat something?"
Q's eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly, then slipped completely
under the water. Picard knew better than to try to escape, and, to tell
the truth, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Not long after getting in this
bath he'd lost the aches and the weariness he'd woken up with. In fact,
he felt wonderfully refreshed and relaxed, physically.
It was his mental condition that worried him. Q wasn't giving him
time to find his feet, time to think about what was going on between them,
and he doubted it came from Q's sense of fun. He could sense that Q was
worried, perhaps even frightened. Did Q think that Picard was going to
run off screaming if he came even momentarily to his senses?
But then he felt the lightest of touches along the inside of his
legs, and he stopped wondering about Q's insecurities. How could he be
this involved in nothing more than this light trace under the --
"Q!" he shouted, for this wasn't going to be another round of
teasing caresses. Q had taken him inside his mouth deeply, completely,
while his strong arms encircled Picard's hips and pressed him close.
Looking down as best he could, Picard could see the jumbling swirl of
lines and colors as Q settled down between his legs as they spread back
against the bench. Carefully, not wanting to pull Q's hair or disturb his
work on his now extremely hard member, Picard let his hands sink into the
water to rest, stroking as gently as he could, on that dark hair tinged
with gray.
"I love you," he said, though Q couldn't hear his deep voice.
But the pressure around his cock did increase, and Q's hands were
busy behind him. He felt his body being pulled slightly forward, away
from the side of the tub, and then lifted up before a long, delicate
finger began to rub up and down his cleft. A moment of this, and the
finger slipped easily inside him.
Shuddering now, Picard rolled his body a bit, trying to help Q
along, remembering only barely not to grasp at Q's hair. He found he was
moaning again in a strange sing-song of pleasure as Q's tongue twisted
around him like a snake and the finger rubbed his prostate again and
again.
He came, strong and hard and good, and felt Q swallowing him
deeply and wished, rather incoherently, that his love for Q could somehow
be transmitted through that simple and tangible act. How was he going to
be able to get Q to talk to him long enough to convince him that Picard
was fully aware of what was going on and quite, quite happy about it?
Q's head broke the surface then, grinning in delight, and Picard
lost his train of thought.
"You could at least breathe hard," the captain noted drily.
"Ah, you would have killed a mortal lover with exhaustion long
before now, Jean-Luc."
Then Picard remembered what he was thinking about before and moved
quickly, pushing Q gently but firmly against the opposite side of the spa
to straddle him on the bench. Placing one finger over Q's lips, he bent
to kiss a careful scouting pattern along Q's neck, marking down the
location of each sensitive spot. When he reached the connection of neck
and shoulder, Q groaned and began to move, and Picard froze completely
until Q sat still once again. Picard traced the pattern created by Q's
weak spots now with just the tip of his tongue, enjoying the noises Q was
making, the thud of his heart, the unsteady breaths. For a third time
around he began to suck, gently at first, then harder, before finally
fixing his mouth on that spot at the base of Q's neck and sucking very
hard indeed right as his hand went around Q's erection.
"Jean-Luc!"
He pumped gently, again enjoying the feel of strength and
incredible softness, then pulled his head away from Q until they could
look at each other.
Except that Q had his eyes closed.
"Look at me," Picard said, then repeated the order as his hand
stilled.
Biting his lip, Q opened his eyes and Picard went back to his
gentle strokes. Staring into those brilliant brown orbs, Picard selected
each of his words with care, articulating even more clearly than usual,
allowing his voice to grow deeper and husky with emotion.
"I love you, Q. Do you hear me?"
Q nodded, eyes glittering.
"I'm not saying it while you drive me crazy. I'm not saying it
because I've lost my ability to think clearly or because it's what I think
you want to hear. I'm saying it because I want to, and because I want
you to believe me. Understood?"
Q nodded again and moved slightly, a silent entreaty for more.
Picard smiled and kept the pace of his hand steady. "I'm not
going to turn around on you suddenly and claim that you've used your
powers to alter my mind. I'm not going to insist that you take us back in
time before this all happened. I'm not going to get bashful and pretend
it didn't happen. Do you understand me?"
A deep nod this time.
"Now, I'd rather not fuck you on my bridge just yet while Riker
applauds and Data takes notes, but I realize we have some work to do, some
things to talk about, so it is not necessary to distract me from thinking
about this with sex. I have an idea what this is about, you realize, and
what the both of us want, and I'm moving forward with it. Have you got
that, Q?" He took his hand away from Q's mouth.
And Q stared at him, unmoving.
Picard stilled his hand, leaving it resting against that pulse,
and a long minute passed. When Q finally spoke, his voice was tight and
flat.
"You have no idea what I want, Picard."
"Then tell me," the captain said impatiently. "Tell me this thing
you think I can't hear without wanting to run away, and we can put it
behind us and get on with things."
"I did tell you."
"When?" Picard frowned.
Q smiled without humor. "Weren't you listening?"
Picard thought, and remembered...but surely that wasn't it?
"About wanting to open me?" he asked. "And come inside me?"
"You were listening."
"We did that."
"I want to do it again."
"So do I, but..."
"But what?"
Picard exhaled sharply. "I suppose I was thinking there'd be more
involved."
Q's smile got a few degrees warmer. "There will be, if you like,
if you'll let me. But right now...Picard." Q's vision seemed to go out
of focus before his eyes closed a moment, then opened. "But right now I
can't think about that. All I can think of is making love with you. I'm
not using sex to distract you...I mean, if I am, it's only to distract you
about sex."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that any damn minute now you're going to tell me to take
you back to your ship! It means you'll want to put on your uniform and
have a talk over some Earl Grey. You'll want me to think about our future
and the compromises we're going to need to make."
"Does that seem unreasonable to you?"
"No, it's just not possible...not right now when I want you so
bad...I can't think about us! I can only think about you. This moment
right now, we're talking when I could be making you feel so good, making
both of us feel so good." He shook his head. "I'm a Q, Picard! For
millennia I haven't needed to wait an instant to have everything I ever
wanted right then, right the way I wanted it. And for *nine years* I've
waited for you! What we've done so far has only whetted my appetite,
driven me that much further into longing and needing." He stopped to take
a breath and closed his eyes, keeping them closed. "I can't touch you
enough, can't have enough of you, can't...I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, but I -- "
Picard had stopped the flow of tortured words with the simple
expedient of covering those full lips with his own. His hand resumed
stroking Q to full hardness before shifting his own body much closer. The
groan in Q's throat turned up slightly as a question, then dipped when
Picard's intentions became clear. The tub suddenly became confining, and
they were instantly back on the bed, Picard on his back, his legs drawn
up, as Q pushed a finger back inside him to loosen the muscle. A second
and then a third finger slipped inside, until Picard was pushing against
them and groaning invitations. Q positioned himself, eyes on his lover's
face, as he plunged in with a long gentle stroke that got Picard's eyes to
roll back in his head. The man began to moan softly as Q continued
thrusting gently but with force. Q's large hands ran up and down those
incredible legs, and he breathed in deeply the smell and sensation of
being with and inside Jean-Luc.
"More," Picard groaned. "More, please, Q."
"I love you. I can't get enough of you."
"I...ooooooh...I noticed."
Q kept his eyes fixed, and when they came felt more involved with
the captain's orgasm than his own.
Riker waited patiently outside the ready room, padd in hand, and
entered without haste at the captain's response.
"DS6 is reporting some anomalous readings in the delta band
frequencies around Penthat VII," Riker said, moving towards the desk and
settling into a chair.
"The last time that happened there were smugglers," Picard noted,
placing his cup of Earl Grey on his desk and reaching for the padd in
Riker's hand.
Riker passed it over easily, then settled back to watch Picard's
face as he read the report.
The captain's brow was drawn slightly as he read, and there was
nothing about him to suggest that anything was wrong, but Riker felt
himself tense up in vague alarm. Something about Picard was different,
something looked...had he been replaced by an alien again? Was he being
controlled or manipulated? He didn't seem to be anxious or uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable, Riker thought, not letting any of his sudden and
deep concern show on his face. It was just the opposite of uncomfortable.
Picard looked relaxed, completely untroubled. There was an almost
palpable aura of contentment about him. It was something Riker himself
associated with a certain planet in the Risan System, and completely
different from the drawn tension he'd seen on Picard's face this morning.
So, Riker thought with a little inner smile as his own tension
went away. His captain had found himself a lover on board ship. He was
susprised he'd heard nothing about it. Picard's affair with Nella Darren
had been the talk of the senior staff -- never mind that Deanna wouldn't
tell them anything about it even after they all knew. Beverly had spent a
solid three hours talking his ear off about it after she'd seen Darren in
Sickbay.
Beverly, Riker thought. Now there was a distinct possibility.
Picard's tension over the past few weeks might have had less to do with
their Borg encounter than he'd thought, and why not have it be over
Beverly Crusher? The two of them made sense to Riker, and it would keep
things all in the family.
And he approved for Picard's sake as well. Look at him, Riker
thought to himself. The captain's fingers moved almost languidly over the
padd's keys. His face was clear of worry lines, and he looked several
years younger. When the captain looked up suddenly and smiled at him, the
expression was almost boyish, and Riker had to fight hard to keep from
smiling back too broadly. He didn't want to risk doing anything that
might spoil the captain's mood. Let him be happy for the rest of his
life, as far as Riker was concerned. He took back the offered padd.
"As soon as we're in range, start up continuous sensor sweeps,"
Picard ordered. "Get Mr. Data to reconfigure the lateral sensor arrays to
be especially senstive to anything with a KSK or KSL signature. That's
what the smugglers were using last time."
"Aye, sir," Riker said, then happily left his chair and the ready
room behind. It really had been too long, he decided, since he'd paid a
visit to Sickbay.
Picard watched the door shut behind Riker and breathed a sigh of
relief. That had gone all right. Q wasn't coming back until this
evening, in his quarters. He still had several hours to face, but there
was only one meeting with the heads of stellar cartography and
astrophysics slated for this afternoon, and then a brief session with the
senior staff for reports on their preparations for DS6, and then...
And then.
Picard couldn't help it. He hunched slightly in his chair and let
the memories pour through him.
Three weeks. Q hadn't wanted to tell him, at first, but Picard
had been adamant, wanting to know how much relative time was passing since
Q had taken him from the Enterprise. Three weeks, without eating, without
working, sleeping occasionally because he was used to it and because, Q
said, astonishing his lover, that it felt good to share the
defenselessness of it with Picard.
But mostly they had made love.
END PART TWO
From ix.netcom.com!visi.com!news-out.visi.com!chippy.visi.com!news-out.visi.com!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Wed Aug 27 11:28:45 1997
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From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: Live and Let Q (TNG P/Q NC-17 but no BDSM) 3/3
Date: 23 Aug 1997 19:25:57 GMT
Lines: 219
Message-ID: <19970823192500.PAA22453@ladder01.news.aol.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com
X-Admin: news@aol.com
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Hi. This is an NC-17 P/Q story, a sequel to "From Q, With Love,"
decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely stories, no question).
No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men (kinda) or lots of
love-talk should read any further.
Feedback is appreciated at Varoneeka@aol.com
Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistable toys. I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!
"Oh, Jean-Luc, yes!" he could hear Q scream as a particular memory
pushed itself to the front of him mind.
This memory came from the first couple of days, back before Q had
explained why he was hesitant about letting Picard inside him again. Of
course, "hesitant" when it came to Q and sex meant that he lay still for
half a second before rolling over on his hands and knees and practically
ordering Picard inside.
Picard might have objected to Q's tone, except that he was
half-delirious with the memory of being inside Q from before. The
lubricant Q whipped up was warm and slick, but Picard found himself
saying, quite without the embarassment he might have in a less heated
moment: "No, not inside you yet. I want to do that."
Q had stilled, and then the lubrication was gone from all but
Picard's erection, and the man had leaned in carefully to kiss a path from
Q's scrotum, up his perineum, over his tight bud, then on up to the small
of his back, them back down again.
"Jean-Luc," Q had whimpered.
Hardly able to stand the tension himself, Picard kissed his way
once again to Q's center, then tried to mimic the remembered actions of
Q's tongue, the ones that had driven him so crazy, and he was rewarded
with deep shudders and deeper moans. Q spread his legs farther and arched
his back and Picard found he could think of nothing but increasing Q's
pleasure. Reaching around carefully, he stroked the underside of Q's
erection as he pushed as deeply as he could with his tongue and was
rewarded with sobbing gasps from his lover. With his other hand, he
trailed a light pattern over Q's buttocks, wishing he knew more, could
think of more to do to pleasure him.
As if sensing that, Q grated out, "Inside me, please!"
Positioning himself, he pushed in two fingers and felt the newly
applied lubrication, counting backwards from a hundred in Klingon. Again,
he replaced his fingers and pushed slowly into his lover, and again Q
shoved himself backwards frantically.
But there was something wrong in Q's tension, something Picard
could not identify but didn't want to ignore, and so he kept Q from
setting his rhythm and leaned over Q's long and smooth back to trail
kisses between his shoulderblades.
"I love you," he said quietly.
"Harder," Q whispered.
"I said I love you."
"I love you too, Jean-Luc. Harder!"
Picard rolled his hips, determined not yet to give Q what he
wanted.
"Tell me that you understand," Picard ordered.
Q bit off a sob of frustration and grew still, except for his
heaving breaths. "Understand what?"
"That I love you."
And, as Picard suspected, Q didn't want to answer that. He tried
pushing back instead once again, then kept himself motionless, his head
bowed towards the bed.
Picard withdrew and thrust once, gently, and watched the play of
Q's muscles under his sweat-coated skin.
"Please," Q said so quietly.
"Tell me that you know I love you." Another gentle withdraw and
thrust.
"You love me," Q said at last, though the words seemed to lack
full conviction.
"You'll have to do better than that."
"You love me, Picard! All right?"
Slowly, taking every bit of willpower he had, Picard began to
withdraw from Q, moving his hands off his body and pulling out...but Q
rocked back with him, protesting with murmers, and then said clearly, "I
know that you love me."
"Because I wouldn't be here otherwise, right?"
"Right."
"Say it again," Picard ordered, touching his lover with tender
hands and pushing himself in as far as he could.
"Ughhuh. You love me."
"I love watching you." Another deep thrust.
Q hesitated, obviously considering his response, then said loudly,
"You love watching me."
Picard let himself begin a slow and gentle rhythym. "I love
listening to you and knowing that I'm the one making you feel good."
"You love...ooooh, more...listening to me and knowing...yes, yes,
more...more please...knowing you're making me feel good."
"Because I love you." Picard picked up the pace considerably.
"Be -- oh, yes, aaaaah, because...you...love...me."
And finally Picard let himself go, thrusting into this beloved and
bewildering creature as hard as he seemed to want it, digging his nails
into his hips because Q increased his shouts when he did it, and finally
reaching down and biting down hard on his back because it made Q shout
"Oh, Jean-Luc, yes!" very loudly indeed and come inside Picard's hand.
The muscles around his erection tightened to draw out Picard's own orgasm
with a howl, and they collapsed together on the bed, all slick with
lubricant and semen.
Feeling that Q wanted it, he didn't move off his lover's back for
a very long time, but when he did, Q turned to him eagerly and covered his
lips and face and neck with hard, fervent kisses.
"Merde!" Picard said, drawing himself up in his chair and willing
down his erection. It was time for his meeting in stellar cartography.
"Captain," the counselor's voice caught him all of three feet from
his quarters.
"Yes, Commander?" Picard asked affably, turning to watch her
approach. Her smile was its usual warm tone, but he could sense her
hidden puzzled frown.
Troi sensed that he sensed it and tried to push it deeper down.
Like Riker, Picard was much more empathic than he realized, and the
connection between them was very strong.
Which was why she was so puzzled. It was true that the deep sense
of goodwill and contentment she could sense from her captain matched his
expression, but it did nothing to explain why he suddenly felt this way.
This morning he'd been tired and full of stress, and now...
"I hope I'm not intruding, Captain," she said as sincerely as she
could, knowing Picard would be working to hide a snort in response. "But
it is part of my duty to the ship to monitor the commanding officer's --"
"Deanna," Picard broke in gently. "Q said that you knew about his
feelings for me."
It's hard, Troi was to think later, trying to look professional
and helpful with your mouth wide open.
Picard winked at her and gave her the slightest squeeze on her
upper arm, unwittingly transfering his feelings for half a dizzying
second. "We'll talk in the morning." Then he turned around and entered
his quarters, and, for Troi, it was as if he completely disappeared.
In something of a daze, she walked to the turbo-lift and announced
her destination. She couldn't remember being this silly with happiness
for someone in a long, long time.
Then she thought of what Will would think and began to laugh.
She was still chuckling evily when she made it to her quarters,
dim and restful.
And found a huge box of chocolates on her table bearing the note:
"Eat up to your greedy heart's content, my dear. They won't put an ounce
on your dainty figure. Q."
She studied the note a long moment before opening the box, and
selecting a particularly dark and smooth-looking confection. They were,
she decided a moment later, the best chocolates she'd ever had.
But thoughts of Will's shocked expression were even more
delicious.
Picard stood inside his quarters and looked around. Nothing
seemed different from that morning -- three weeks ago. He'd been hoping
to find Q here, waiting for him, but perhaps he wasn't as avid as he'd
said.
And then the captain became aware of Q, all around him. He sensed
the slight warmth of Q against his skin, smelled him faintly, could
somehow feel him, the urgency of him, and the love, mingled with lust and
longing.
With a smile, Picard kicked off his shoes and drew a hand across
his brow, then over his head, and felt that longing increase. Next he
removed the top of his uniform, the tank, then, slowly, his socks and his
pants, then his underwear. The feeling of Q all around him increased with
his nudity and his smile, and slowly he walked to the bathroom, turned on
the shower, and stepped inside.
The hot water felt good against his skin, the soap nice and
slippery, as he lathered up and rinsed off, always aware of Q there with
him, lightly carressing him as though he were nothing more than a warm
draught in the shower.
Increasingly aware of his erection, Picard stepped out and dried
himself off, reaching for his pajamas, which vanished before he could
touch them. Chuckling, Picard made his way to the bed and got between the
sheets, then turned over on his side, as though he were about to go to
sleep.
And finally Q materialized, and Picard felt the warm lubrication
inside him a bare second before Q was thrusting inside in that gentle but
firm motion that made the man groan with pleasure. How had he gotten
through the day? How had he stood being without Q for so many hours?
"I love you," Q said into his ear. "All I do anymore is love
you."
"I couldn't think about anything," Picard said, now grown used to
his lover's need for even the most melodramatic of endearments and
reassurances. "I tried to be interested in their realignment of the
lateral sensor arrays, and all I could think about was kissing you and
being inside you and you being inside me."
This last was said breathlessly. But Picard knew, according to
the agreement that he and Q had hammered out before he returned Picard to
the Enterprise, that they were staying in real time now, and he didn't
want to come yet. Q did, quickly, eagerly, a testament to his long wait,
then Picard waited as Q withdrew, turned, rolled Q on his back and entered
him.
Like Q, Picard liked penetrating Q from the front better, even
though he couldn't go in quite as far, at least, as easily. It was such
joy to watch Q's face, to see the changes in his skin color, the vibration
of his lips, the way his eyes would widen like a child's when Picard
managed to find yet another sensitive spot.
Picard loved to kiss Q's neck. It was outrageously erogenous,
especially around the jugular. Picard had learned after about their
second week together that Q loved being vulnerable to Picard, and loved it
equally well when Picard was voluntarily vulnerable to him. Picard had
tried to think of ways to make himself seem open and unprotected, and to
make Q feel the same way. Kissing Q's neck was an easy way to achieve the
effect he was looking for.
"Q," he murmured with love, not yet used to the feeling but no
longer uncomfortable with it. "I'm looking at you. Come for me."
Q groaned in response, his eyes closed. He would open them when
Picard asked, but the man was so far content with the sounds he was
hearing, Q's groans and moans and whimpers.
Picard still couldn't get used to how good this felt. There was
something purely physical about it, the tight heat, the strong feel of
grappling with an equal, the ripple of muscles and the strong smell of his
lover. But there was so much more. He'd never loved anyone this deeply,
this completely, this...overwhelmingly. He spent some time during their
second week together being afraid of that. But...he wasn't anymore, and
he didn't want to think right now about why.
Another thrust, and he became aware of the tightness in his body,
the sparks behind his eyes. Q's erection was trapped between them, and
Picard knew that would be enough to bring him off as well.
And then Picard told Q to open his eyes, and the dark irises were
revealed as they looked into him, deeply, without reserve, waiting.
"I love you, Q," Picard said slowly. "I'm so full of love for you
I wonder how I ever felt complete before without it."
"Do you love me?" Q asked, his insecurity plain, a definite
improvement from their first days.
For an answer, Picard thrust again and again, as hard as he could,
and sank his teeth into Q's left pectoral muscle.
And as they came together, tumbling eagerly into oblivion, Q began
to believe it.
THE END
Picard and Q will return in "Q is Forever"